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It had started as a walk in the park. Daryl had gone around half the lake, when he noticed a dirt path he hadn’t noticed before, and feeling like some exploration might be fun, he took it. The path meandered deep into a thicket of trees, and soon he could neither see, nor hear the families picnicking and playing less that 200 yards away, and then he found the clearing.

The men were lounging on some found, inflatable furniture, and the grass was littered with various other pieces of furniture, some tables, mattresses, all of it junk. They beckoned him over, and he was unable to resist. He didn’t know why, but before long he was seated next to the Mayor, sucking his cock, feeling his beard grow longer, his clothing tattered and filthy. The other derelicts, laughing and drunk, surrounded them and soaked the newcomer with their piss. Before too long, he was just another filthy derelict–the hobo camp had claimed another victim. 

It all started when my brother and I ran into a bit of a problem. See, our parents were leaving town for a week, and we wanted to throw a party–the problem is that I was twenty, and he was eighteen, and neither of us had any older friends to buy the booze for us. So what do we do? We put an ad on Craigslist–stupid, right? Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and we got a response pretty quick.

It was from a farmer on the outskirts of town, who wrote back and said that he had just finished up a batch of his moonshine, and that he’d sell it to us dirt cheap. We hadn’t gotten any other offers, so we decided to give it a shot–if it was horrible, we could always not buy it. We drove out to the farm, met the toothless hick, and he gave us a bottle to try, and he said we could get the rest if we liked it.

We got back home and sampled it. It was strong, way stronger than anything we’d ever had before, but the taste wasn’t too bad, and it went down surprisingly easy. But…strange things started happening. My brother started talking in a Southern drawl after a few shots, and when I passed by a mirror, I saw my clothes were gone, replaced by a pair of overalls and nothing else. We both were packing on weight as well…and horny as shit. Before I could stop him, my older brother shoved me down on the sofa, hauled out my cock and sucked me off, and later than evening he fucked me back, and it all seemed perfectly right and normal, until morning, when we both woke up with the worst hangovers of our lives.

We were back to our old selves thankfully, and we said we wouldn’t go back, but the hangover only got worse. We needed more of that damn moonshine, and we both knew it. The farmer was waiting for us, grinning like an idiot. He…He made us drink another whole bottle each  then and there, and before long our alter egos were back, worshipping our “Pa’s” fat, filthy body, and we both knew it was wrong, but we were hooked.

We did throw the party that week. All of our guy friends are hooked on the moonshine now too, and most of us stay in our redneck forms full time now–it hurts too damn much to be normal. I’m writing this sober, because when I’m Jerod, I’m illiterate, but I can barely take the pain. I just want someone to know what happened. I’m never going back–I’m going to be drunk on Pa’s moonshine for the rest of my life, and I don’t care. But tell my parents, tell them Jerry and Grant love them very much. Tell them goodbye.

Saul really had been wrong about his new neighbors. Sure, he’d been worried when those black thugs had moved into the foreclosed house next door, playing their loud music at all hours, and throwing huge parties on the weekends. In his misguided judgment, he’d even mistakenly called the cops on them a few times. He’d never understood why the officers never broke up the huge parties–they would just knock on the door, talk to one of the hoodlums, and then leave like nothing was wrong.

Now he understood though–he understood that these young, beautiful black men were his ideal neighbors, how could he have not realized it before? With their young toned bodies, ebony skin, and huge cocks, how could an old, fat, perverted faggot like him be disappointed with that? Of course, he’d needed their help to realize that about himself, but after a long chat, and especially after feeling each of their huge cocks crammed down his throat, he quickly realized that they were right. He was a total pervert who spent his days fantasizing about big black cocks–and he was the luckiest pervert on the block.

“No…Trevor…don’t, please–” Frank said, but any protests were swallowed by a loud moan as his son deepthroated his father’s cock once more.

“That’s a good cub,” Clyde said, coming up behind Frank and tugging at the older man’s nipples, “Show your daddy all the tricks you’ve learned over the past few months. Show him what a wonderful slut you’ve become.”

Clyde was Frank and Trevor’s next door neighbor, and several months ago, Trevor had asked his dad if he could work over at Clyde’s after school to earn some money. Frank had agreed, figuring it would be good for his son to have a job, but soon, he started to worry if Clyde was a bad influence. A few times he’d thought Trevor had come home smelling of sex, and Clyde had made some changes to his appearance, like telling Trevor to growa goatee and get a buzzcut. The final straw though, was when Frank had walked in on Trevor naked and had seen his nipples and penis were pierced.

Frank had stormed next door, but Clyde calmed him down and explained the situation. Clyde owned his own production company, and he had asked Trevor to help him produce and act in his films. He had a variety of sets, and he told Frank that he could strip down and see the indoor pool if he wanted, and Frank felt compelled to do as Clyde asked.

In the basement, he found Trevor wading in the pool, naked, and Clyde told Frank how handsome his cub son was, and Frank, well he was a big, beautiful bear himself. Clyde sat him down on the edge of the pool, where Trevor had immediately begun sucking his dad’s thick cock. Frank looked around and saw many video cameras catching all of the action, but it didn’t bother him–it turned him on knowing that horny men were watching his hot son suck his cock.

After all, it was just like Master Clyde said–This was what a hot son and father like Trevor and him should be doing with their time. He put one hand on the back of Trevor’s head and started thrusting down his son’s throat, saying, “That’s good boy, you know how to suck cock like a pro–your dad isn’t gonna last long if you keep that up.”

Clyde grinned, knowing he’d gained another beautiful bear for his burgeoning home movie business. He was certain men would pay good money for a series of father and son flicks, so Trevor and Frank were going to be very busy from now on. Clyde smiled as Frank pulled his cock out and shot his load all over his son’s face, before bending over and licking it out of his son’s goatee, kissing him passionately. Yes, the three of them would be very busy indeed.

Ryan checked his watch again, and cursed himself for oversleeping. He had drugged Tom’s drink at the bar last night so the formula should be in full effect this morning, but he’d wanted to be there to see it happen, damn it! Ryan and Tom had been rivals for as long as they’d been swimming, but with the Olympic trials coming up–Ryan wanted a spot, and wanted to make sure Tom didn’t get one. The formula Tom drank would react with water and make him bloat with fat–nothing he couldn’t work off in a year, but enough to slow him down–provided he got out of the water fast enough.

Ryan had suggested they race each other the next morning, but he’d slept in, and was now a half hour late. He quickly stripped down in the locker room and burst into the gym, expecting to see Tom screaming and terrified, or not there at all, but he was in the shallow end, just standing there…and he was huge, a massive, hairy gut bobbing in the water. He looked up and saw Ryan there, and smirked. “Well, I guess you got me, eh? Here to swim your victory lap?”

Confused, Ryan came closer to Tom, and was caught off guard when the now obese swimmer grabbed his ankle and hauled him down into the water. Immediately, Ryan felt his stomach gurgle and begin to expand, and he tried to fight Tom off, but pleasure surged through him, and he moaned.

“Feels good, right? I wasn’t expecting that either. I got the same formula from the doc, and drugged you too. But you know what? Being fat feels really good,” Tom said, pushing his gut up against Ryan, “So why don’t we see where this takes us?”

Tom leaned in to kiss him, but Ryan pulled back. “Come on man, we aren’t…we aren’t gay!” But the pleasure coursing through him, the sensation of Tom’s gut rubbing against him in the water was turning him on, and when Tom grabbed his cock, he didn’t resist. Unable to help himself, he started rubbing Tom’s gut with his hands, then leaned over and suckled one of his big nipples, Tom groaning and thrusting his cock into Ryan’s fattening middle.

It was an hour later when they heaved themselves out of the pool. They found a scale in the gym, and  took a look at the damage. Ryan clocked in at 434 pounds, and Tom at 506. They both knew they should be disgusted with themselves, but they couldn’t stop making out and kneading their fat, hairy forms. “How about we go get some breakfast?” Ryan said.

“Sounds great, but lets get something greasy–no more Subway for me.” Tom replied, and they laughed.

“I bet I can eat way more than you though.”

“Oh, is that a challenge? I’d like to see you try.”

He never knew where the first one had come from. It had come in an bubble envelope in the mail, and when he’d opened it and pulled out the filthy, yellow stained jock, he’d dropped it, disgusted beyond belief. He could…smell it. He had immediately thrown it in the trash, and then gone to wash his hands, but that smell. He couldn’t not smell it, and he’d gone back, again, and again, and again.

Now, his collection was growing. Soon, one wasn’t enough–he’d needed more. At first, he had tried to make his own filthy jock straps, soaking them in his piss, sweat and cum, but it was never enough–it was never right. It needed to be someone else’s filth for him to get off. When the link arrived in his email, it was a godsend. A site devoted to young athletes auctioning off their smelly jocks to old men like him. The bidding wars were outrageous, but he had to win, no matter the cost, and all orchestrated by the jocks, getting rich old men addicted to their stink. They had to pay for booze somehow, after all.

“Oh please Lord, not again…” Paul said, as he wrapped his hand around his hard cock once more. He had lost track of how many times he’d shot this morning, but he just couldn’t resist. He’d spent his life spreading Christian virtue, and warning people about the dangers of masturbation and sex, but now–it was like he was possessed.

Even worse, with every load, he was changing. His hair was falling out, he was getting fatter. He had no ambition anymore–it was like all his body wanted to do was lay around and masturbate. This time though, just jacking off wouldn’t be enough, he could tell.

He reached around and probed his asshole with a finger, and worked it inside with a groan. “Oh yeah, that’s it. Feels so good having a finger up my shitter,” Paul heard himself say in a voice not his own, and moments later, he shot his load all over the carpet in front of him, and he sobbed. He didn’t know what demon had possessed him, but he was too weak. Soon, his righteous character would disappear, and he’d be a chronic masturbator forever more.

Jeff didn’t know where all this gear was coming from, but he knew he wouldn’t stop. The thong and cock ring had come first, and he hadn’t taken it off for weeks now–not even for work. At home though, he’d drag in the next package outside his apartment, strip down to the thong as soon as he was inside, and then rip open the box to see what new treasures he’d been sent.

Already he’d gotten harnesses, chaps, rubber body suits, jackets, boots, jocks–everything he could imagine. He spent his evening in various states of dress, jacking off and smoking for hours at a time, but not tonight. Tonight was special–he could tell. There hadn’t been a box today, and he was milking his cock, waiting, when he heard a knock. Outside he found a young leather cub on his knees. “Hello, Sir,” he said.

“Shut it cub, daddy’s horny,” Jeff replied, dragged the boy inside and fucked his face, now a leather daddy forever more.

“Oh God sir! Please–it hurts!”

“Relax slave! Relax and open up.”

“Please…please no–I’m not gay, I’m not an–an asspig! Ahh!”

“We’ve been over this slave, don’t make me get rough again. Now repeat after me. I’m a fag.”

“I’m–I’m a fag.”

“I’m a whore. A dirty faggot whore.”

“A–A dirty whore. Please! No more, it’s so big!”

“Relax pig, this is what you want. You have always wanted to be an asspig.”

“No…No…”

“Say it pig, Fucking say it, or I swear to God–”

“I’m a fucking ass pig, Sir! I’m a fucking ass…oh…oh fuck…oh that feels…ohh…”

“See? I told you, all you have to do is relax and let your hole do the work. How does it feel slave, to have your master’s fist buried in you?”

“It feels…amazing sir. Thank you sir, thank you for making me your asspig.”

“You’re welcome pig. Now let’s see if you can take me up to the elbow, eh? Would that make you feel good?”

“Oh yes sir, my hole is so hungry sir, fist me hard…”

Source: theboyrook

Jared had wanted to be bigger. At five foot seven, he’d been ignored and looked down on all his life, and when the gypsy woman had offered him one wish–he jumped at the opportunity. And now here he was, eight feet tall, and all he wanted to do was  serve every short man he came across. And worse yet, Jared knew he was still growing–it wouldn’t be long before serving men of short stature was the only thought occupying his empty mind.

However, as far as Master Harris was concerned, he loved watching the giant slave lick his size seven boot clean. At only five foot two, he’d never been taken seriously as a master, but having a big man at his beck and call was something he could get used to, and he planned on doing everything he could to make Jared his permanent property tonight. He had already “humbled” the gentle giant, forcing him to remain on his knees less he stand and rip his balls off. The pain would weaken him, and when it came time to brand his giant, Jared would know he was born to serve.